“Hey Chav, if we lose, I’m getting on the bus in the morning and going home. There’s no way I’m playing in the consolation bracket.” Those were my exact words to Rick Chavez as we.
Mike Vidakovich
At first glance, it would appear as though the seven aging gentlemen had gathered at a long table near the back of the local restaurant to escape from the oppressive June heat, have a nice lunch and enjoy each other’s company.
After all, this small group of old friends and teammates don’t get to see much of each other these days. There was a time, though, when they were almost inseparable, especially during a magical winter long ago when they managed to live out a dream that had been years in the making. From boyhood to the difficult early years of being an adult, the plan had been to go out as champions, and on a stage that was as big as the moment allowed.
Mike Vidakovich
In the late winter of 1975, I was in eighth grade and I went to the high school on a weekend evening to watch the Glenwood Demons battle their big rivals from Carbondale, the Roaring Fork Rams. As was usually the case back then, it was standing room only in the old Glenwood gym when Bob Chavez’s Demons squared off against Sonny Darien’s Rams.
There have been a couple of plays or moments that have taken place on that old hardwood floor in Glenwood that I can now, and will forever remember as clearly as if they took place yesterday. One of them happened that night when Demon guard Rob Chavez was all alone heading down the court for what seemed to be an easy fast break layup.